


Cure To My Heart

by syriala



Series: Steter Week 2018 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Near Death, Pining, Poison, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 01:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15401841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: There was a new threat in town, some kind of scorpion monsters, and Peter had tuned Derek and Scott out as soon as they had told everyone that the poison in their tail was so deadly, they didn’t even have an antidote for it. Apparently, it killed humans in seconds and wolves in hours, and the order was to stay as far away from the tails as possible.As if anyone would be stupid enough to deliberately take a hit.





	Cure To My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Steter Week Day 2, with magical!Stiles as the theme, but it also serves as a fill for the Bad Things Happen square 'Find The Cure'.

Peter was watching Stiles. He knew he shouldn’t, knew that Stiles would definitely not appreciate Peter’s attention on him, but he couldn’t help himself.

Stiles was mesmerizing, fascinating to watch and it wasn’t like Peter had a lot of other things to keep himself occupied with during this pack meeting.

There was a new threat in town, some kind of scorpion monsters, and Peter had tuned Derek and Scott out as soon as they had told everyone that the poison in their tail was so deadly, they didn’t even have an antidote for it. Apparently, it killed humans in seconds and wolves in hours, and the order was to stay as far away from the tails as possible.

As if anyone would be stupid enough to deliberately take a hit.

Peter had stopped paying attention after that, certain that the rest of the ‘strategizing’ would be just as pointless as that order and instead his eyes had been drawn to Stiles.

Stiles had grown into himself in the past few years; finally filling out those shoulders and getting his limbs under control. He was deadly if he wanted to be, training with Chris and himself making Stiles a worthy opponent even without considering his infinite magical talent. No one was sure yet, just what he could do with his spark, because they hadn’t found anything he couldn’t do if he really wanted to.

Stiles could utilize spells and potions, could work his magic through runes, but he could also just _believe,_ and it worked just as well.

Peter had always been drawn to power, but pairing Stiles’ power with his wit and sarcasm, his loyalty and protectiveness, his sparkling eyes and pale skin? It was just too much.

Peter never stood a chance.

All the more regretful that he had made such a poor first impression on Stiles, which Stiles never seemed to have gotten over.

Whenever Stiles had to deal with him, he smelled of nothing but annoyance, and sometimes Peter got the distinct impression Stiles wanted to strangle him, but there were no positive scents associated with Peter.

It hurt, in the beginning more than now, but Peter knew that he couldn’t change it. He couldn’t even blame Stiles for it, with how he had behaved, mad from the alpha power.

But whenever Stiles turned from Peter to someone else and his scent suddenly bloomed with contentment, and that special scent combination that indicated friendship or even familial love, something in Peter painfully clenched up.

He knew himself well enough to know that he would be forever bitter about ruining his chance with Stiles and that he couldn’t even blame it on anyone else.

Stiles was currently in the process of applying more runes to his arms, and Peter was tracking his every stroke. It was mesmerizing to watch him work and Peter figured he could at least enjoy this. He decidedly didn’t think about the wistful note his thoughts took on more often than not.

When Scott and Derek finally declared their mission a go, Peter got up with everyone else, always a fan of taking his mind off his feelings with a good fight.

“Try to not to get killed,” Stiles told him, suddenly appearing next to Peter who couldn’t help but take a quick whiff when Stiles scent hit him.

Mild annoyance and the faint smell of ozone, which indicated that Stiles’ magic was already swirling under his skin, ready to be used.

“Shouldn’t you stay at home?” Peter asked, unable to keep his worry to himself.

If the poison could kill humans in seconds, he didn’t understand why Stiles had to join them. Whatever his part in this fight was, it couldn’t be worth the risk.

“You didn’t pay attention at all, did you?” Stiles asked with a small smile, but the annoyance only got more pronounced and Peter shrugged.

“It’s not like Scott and Derek are tactical geniuses. They are going to attack up front, and they want me to be amongst the first,” he summarized, certain that he wasn’t wrong in this.

“Okay, true,” Stiles allowed. “But I’m supposed to keep the scorpions docile. They don’t do well with wet weather, so I’m along to keep the humidity high and make it rain if necessary.”

“Ah,” Peter said, hoping that Stiles, for once, would stay to the sidelines, and not get swept up in the fight as he was so wont to do.

“See you afterwards, creeperwolf,” Stiles said, and Peter told himself, not for the first time, that the fondness and concern he heard in Stiles’ voice, were due to his own imagination.

Peter trusted his senses more than his interpretation of Stiles’ inflection, as lovely as his voice was, and there was nothing in Stiles’ scent to back up what he heard.

They decided to meet up in the preserve again, everyone responsible for getting there themselves, and Peter didn’t bother with going back to his apartment to get his car. He would be faster if he ran, and he made it there at the same time as the others who drove.

“Don’t get stung,” Scott told them all again, as if anyone could have forgotten it in the last ten minutes, and then they were off.

There were more scorpions than they had expected and soon enough it was pandemonium. The scorpions let out an inhuman screech whenever they were hurt, and the noise was hell on the sensitive ears of the wolves.

They were whip fast with their tails, and the only reason no one had been stung so far was Stiles. He had conjured rain almost as soon as the fight started, seemingly realizing that they were in deep shit, and while the rain made it hard to see, it also considerably slowed the scorpions down.

Peter had kept an eye on Stiles, too worried about him and the fact that he was too engrossed in his spell to pay attention to his surroundings, always ready to jump over and defend him, but so far none of the creatures had made their way over to him.

Peter was in the process of tearing the head off a scorpion when suddenly he heard something crash through the underbrush. The fight so far had taken place on a clearing, so Peter snapped to attention at the sound of breaking branches and his eyes immediately fell on Stiles, needing to make sure that he was safe and alright.

He seemed that way, but only because he hadn’t noticed the scorpion that was sneaking up on him. Peter would have been impressed at its’ ability to plan an attack like this, but he was too busy sprinting over to Stiles, hoping to get there before Stiles could take a hit.

He made it, barely, and tackled Stiles to the ground, just as the scorpion stroke. Peter heard his shirt tear, felt the faint pain the tail left behind, but he pushed the implications of that out of his mind. He needed to make sure that Stiles was alright, that he wouldn’t get hurt.

Stiles was cursing under him, smelling of fear and annoyance, but he was already getting up, so at least he wasn’t injured. Peter roared, ready to get his claws into the scorpion who dared to come after Stiles and soon enough he was swept back into the fight.

He could feel the poison work its’ way through him, his enhanced healing making an effort to expel it, but it was already taking its toll on Peter. He was slower, not enough to be noticed by the others yet, but Peter was sure it was only a matter of time.

He needed them to wrap this up fast.

Just as Peter was thinking it, the fight slowly died down. Derek killed the last scorpion, elegantly dancing out of the way when the tail snapped forward and then suddenly it was over, and silence settled over the clearing.

They had won and going by the exhausted but unworried expressions everyone had made it out without being hit.

Well, everyone but Peter.

His knees were already shaking, strength leaving him, and Peter was surprised at just how fast the poison was working. If it kept up with this pace, he had maybe till this evening before he would die.

Peter straightened his shoulders and allowed himself one last glance at Stiles. He was up and talking with Scott, but he was throwing glances at Peter and frowning, and Peter didn’t need his sense of smell to know that Stiles was angry with him.

It only cemented his decision to go home, without telling anyone about this. There was no cure, after all, and Peter was not keen on seeing Stiles be indifferent, or god forbid happy, towards his nearing demise.

“If that was everything, I have better things to do than stand around with you in the rain. It ruins my clothes,” Peter snappishly said, and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyes flitting over his body to check him over and Peter scoffed.

“Of course, I’m alright. Don’t call until the next catastrophe,” he gave back, and turned around to walk away.

The wolves should have heard his heartbeat betray him, but Peter knew that no one cared enough to pay attention to him, and when no one called him out on his lie, he was yet again proven right.

Peter was glad that he had left his car at home, hands already shaking too much to safely operate the vehicle, and he really didn’t need a car crash on top of everything else.

He made it to his apartment, just barely, knees already so weak, and he sunk down on the couch once he made it inside. Peter briefly thought about getting up to lie down on the bed, but it seemed like too much work. He could die on his couch just as well, there was no need to make anything harder on himself.

There were a lot of things Peter would have done differently in his life if he got a second chance but the only thing he truly regretted was not being able to make anything up to Stiles. Peter would have liked to see Stiles smile at him and _mean it_ , at least once.

But it was too late now.

~*~*~

“Something is wrong with him,” Stiles said, for the fifth time since they came back from the clearing and he glared daggers at Derek when he rolled his eyes.

“Peter said he was okay,” Derek told him, again, but Stiles shook his head.

“He was lying,” Stiles insisted. “Call him. Ask him again,” he demanded.

Stiles was sure that Peter had been hit by the scorpion, but no one would believe him. But they needed to get started on finding a cure, right now, because otherwise Peter would die.

“Fine,” Derek grumbled but got his phone out.

He hit a few buttons and then put the phone to his ear. His frown deepened with every second Peter didn’t pick up.

“He’s not answering,” he said, and Stiles felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin.

“Because he’s been poisoned, Derek, we have to go there right now,” he rushed out, already walking towards the door.

“I don’t know where he lives,” Derek called after him, but Stiles wasn’t deterred.

He had found out where Peter lived months ago.

When Stiles finally realized that neither Scott nor Derek were following him he was already at his jeep, and he didn’t have time to go back to argue with them. He needed to get to Peter.

Stiles was nervously tapping against his steering wheel the whole time, mentally going through horror scenarios where he found Peter but was too late or where he didn’t manage to find a cure in time and Stiles felt dangerously close to a panic attack.

He couldn’t lose Peter.

He still hadn’t managed to make Peter like him, they were barely anything, but acquaintances and Stiles had a plan, okay? A five-year plan to mellow Peter out enough to finally tell him that Stiles was in love with him and Peter not ripping his throat out immediately. He wouldn’t allow Peter to ruin his plan by dying.

Stiles jumped out of the jeep as soon as he had stopped, and he was rushing up to Peter’s apartment. He didn’t bother knocking, opening the door with his magic and running into the apartment.

Stiles wasn’t familiar with the layout, but he found the living-room easily enough and Peter was there on the couch.

“Peter,” Stiles called out, and Peter’s head lolled on the back of the couch into his direction.

“No,” Stiles whispered, “no, no, no. You’re not allowed to die, asshole,” he said and darted forward to shake Peter.

“Always so annoyed with me,” Peter mumbled with a faint smile on his face.

“Because you’re an annoying person, Peter, why didn’t you say something?” Stiles rushed out, frantically looking for the cut.

“My back,” Peter told him, eyes finally open but not moving otherwise.

He was pale, already so pale, and Stiles stomach dropped out when he realized that Peter wasn’t being difficult on purpose but that he was already too weak to really help Stiles out.

“How did that happen?” Stiles wanted to know, desperately trying to draw the poison out with his magic, but it wasn’t enough. It had already spread too far. “You were supposed to be careful!”

“Had to protect you,” Peter mumbled and frowned. “You’re always angry with me,” he continued, and he pressed his mouth together as if more words wanted to come out, but Peter kept them back.

“I’m not angry with you,” Stiles distractedly said, mind whirring to come up with a cure for this, to find a way to at lest slow the poisoning down, so that he would have more time.

“Angry now,” Peter slurred, and Stiles looked up at him.

He could see the pain in Peter’s eyes and his heart gave a painful thump.

“I’m also worried and stressed and pretty sure I’m going to die of heartbreak if you die now,” Stiles gave back, too distracted to pay much attention to what he was saying but Peter’s eyes cleared up a bit at his words.

“No need to lie, sweetheart,” Peter said, clearly announcing every word as if speaking was almost too difficult for him. “Can take the rejection,” Peter went on and then slumped against the couch, like this had taken more out of him, than he had to give at the moment.

“What rejection?” Stiles asked, and then it hit him. “Fuck.”

The scent masking spell.

He had gotten so used to it, that he didn’t even think about it half of the time. It had long ago become routine to renew it every morning and Stiles needed a second to remember what exactly it was supposed to do again and how he could reverse it.

When he finally remembered he cursed again. The spell was supposed to keep his positive feelings towards Peter out of his scent. It took him only a few mumbled words to drop the spell, and he couldn’t help but watch Peter closely.

Stiles could pinpoint the exact moment his scent hit Peter because his eyes flew open and he stared down at Stiles, who was kneeling at his feet, in wonder.

“I didn’t know,” Peter said, shakily reaching out to card his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

Stiles leaned into the contact, enjoying it for one short moment, before Peter convulsed on the couch.

“No!” Stiles almost yelled and got up, gripping Peter’s shoulders. “You don’t get to die on me when we were both stupid,” Stiles decided.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that his spark worked on belief. Deaton had once said he could reverse time if he just believed strongly enough; Stiles sure as hell could act as an anti-dote to this poison.

He repeated it a few times in his mind, _I’m the anti-dote, I can heal him, there is nothing the poison can do against me_ , before he reeled Peter in for a kiss.

He poured all his love, hope and belief into it, and he could _feel_ how his magic flew into Peter. It had to work, there was simply no other way.

Peter had barely reciprocated, but Stiles didn’t think about that. It wasn’t about the kiss anyway. If it worked, they could do it again and Peter would be strong enough to either keep Stiles close or push him away.

When Stiles finally let go of Peter he fell back against the couch, still as weak and pale as before.

“Come one,” Stiles whispered, hands tangled into Peter’s shirt. “This has to work!”

“At least…good-bye kiss,” Peter panted and convulsed again, sweat breaking out on his forehead and Stiles felt like crying.

How come he could change the weather and hide his scent so thoroughly but he wasn’t able to save Peter?

He sunk down to his knees again, resting his head against Peter’s leg and he couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. Stiles sobbed freely into Peter’s pants and when Peter rested a heavy hand on his head, he cried even harder.

Stiles didn’t know how long he cried, but when he finally stopped his head hurt and he was too afraid to look up at Peter, fearing the worst. His breath started to come in short bursts, and Stiles was resigned enough to simply give in to the panic attack.

“Hush, darling,” Peter whispered from above and Stiles’ head snapped up.

Peter was looking down at him, eyes clear and colour back in his face, and smiled. Stiles laughed out loud, too relieved to do anything else and he easily went when Peter tugged him up.

“I thought it hadn’t worked,” Stiles whispered as he slumped against Peter, who hugged him hard.

“It took some time to kick in,” Peter gave back and nuzzled his face against Stiles’ hair. “The poison was already dangerously close to killing me.”

Stiles heartbeat spiked again at hearing that, but Peter was solid underneath him and warm, and he was pressing a kiss to Stiles’ forehead before he inhaled deeply.

“I never knew you smelled like this,” Peter mumbled, and Stiles felt regret sweeping through him.

“It was a spell,” he explained. “I was convinced you didn’t like me and I didn’t want to give you any ammunition against me in the beginning. I planned to woo you with my amazing ways and then I would have dropped it.”

“It might have worked too, if it didn’t leave me convinced you held nothing but derision for me,” Peter gently chided him.

“I never said I properly thought it through,” Stiles gave back and then leaned back a little bit, so he could look Peter in the eye. “I like you, and I’m sorry I made you think something else.”

“I like you too, sweetheart,” Peter gave back and this time it was him who pulled Stiles in a kiss.

Stiles liked it much better when Peter was an active participant and when they eventually parted, Stiles let out a low whine, causing Peter to dart in again for a few more kisses.

“Never do this again,” Stiles eventually mumbled against his lips and Peter frowned.

“Do what? Save your life? I’m not going to promise that,” he gave back and dragged his nose up Stiles’ cheek.

“Nearly die,” Stiles corrected him, leaning into the contact.

“I’ll try. I’d much rather be alive, anyway,” Peter gave back and pressed another sweet kiss to Stiles’ lips.

Stiles rested his hand on Peter’s chest, feeling his heartbeat under his palm and he marveled at the fact that just a few minutes ago he had thought he lost this.

“I’m here,” Peter reassured him and rested his own hand over Stiles’. “And I’m not leaving you.”

His heartbeat remained steady under Stiles’ hand and Stiles already knew that he would be forever attuned to this now.

He couldn’t say he minded, if it meant Peter stayed at his side.


End file.
